


The Vessels of Our Being

by IridiumFlames



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Haru and Sousuke are mostly mentioned in passing, M/M, not too much angst don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 11:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12680583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IridiumFlames/pseuds/IridiumFlames
Summary: Rin and Makoto switch bodies; for the 2017 Makoto Birthday Fanworks exchange!





	The Vessels of Our Being

**Author's Note:**

  * For [songbird97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/songbird97/gifts).



> This was for songbird97- I do hope you enjoy it!

◓

“You smell just the same as last time.”

“That’s not a creepy first thing to say to someone at all. I can’t believe I woke up from jet lag for this.”

The stale, too-still air of the terminal clings to both of them as Rin shuffles around to face him, which would be easier if Makoto was even slightly inclined to let go. He is not inclined. Rin is here in his arms, not dulled by a computer screen or a bad cell connection and he must be staring, because now Rin’s asking him something.

“What? I look that good after ten hours sitting in the same spot?” he smirks, a smile flirting around his lips.

“No– well, yes, but– I’m glad to see you! Stop that,” Makoto blusters, because Rin knows Makoto is weak for him smiling and he’s playing with him, what a meanie. “Can’t I appreciate seeing you?” He’s only been off the plane for a few minutes, but something looks different. Makoto squints at him. “Did you get a haircut?” “Yeah, a couple days ago, how’s it look?” Rin reaches to brush his bangs to one side and turns toward Makoto. 

 

Makoto is possibly a little biased. “I always like–” 

 

“–And don’t say you always like it!” Rin nudges him with a shoulder before he even finishes his thought. “What do you actually think?” 

 

So Makoto allows himself a moment to properly look at him, to rememorize Rin’s face before his visit actually starts; before Makoto’s job of ferrying him back from the airport is done. Rin’s hair is a little longer than Makoto remembers, falling around his neck in soft streaks of scarlet, but his bangs are shorter than they were in high school, almost the same as Makoto’s own hair. His face looks more open, eyes as razor-red as ever, and without his bangs blocking their intensity, Rin looks a whole new level of striking. 

So makoto’s all “you’re amazing” and rin’s all “holy shit i just wanted a general idea, we’re in an airport, are you going to do this to me here, right now” blushing an absolute storm

 

There is a brief scuffle regarding Rin’s suitcase at baggage claim.

“Just let me carry it! You’re going to try and carry me too, I swear,” Rin gripes, tugging at the handle. He is clearly caught between winning his bag back from Makoto and avoiding a scene in the middle of the airport. A couple at a nearby gate is already giving the two of them dubious looks.

He should just let Rin carry it, maybe, but Makoto’s not the one that just flew twelve hours to get here. “I can’t just leave you to carry everything! I mean- I’d rather you not, you’re supposed to be taking a break, right? I can at least carry your bag– and I’m paying for the train, don’t argue.”

He aims his voice for authority and must have hit within the general range of it, because Rin gives up, heaving a sigh and lolling his head back so he can more effectively roll his eyes. “Fine, whatever. I’m still taking my backpack!” He clutches the straps to his shoulders more securely, as though Makoto would actually try ripping it off of him. “Now that I think about it, though, how can you identify what I  _ smell _ like?” he asks, popping his head up as they head toward the luggage pickup. “You’re not stalking me, are you?”

“No, but– ” Makoto turns to look at him. “ –Coconut Silky Shea Butter shampoo? You’ve used it since tenth grade.”

“Goddamn you’re good,” Rin curses, a grin sliding over his face. “Too good. I might have to kiss you, to ruin your deductive power.”

Makoto hops back, mock-surprised. “But Rin! I have to be at peak detective skill at all times!” and Rin’s spiky grin dissolves into laughter as he kisses him anyway.

◒

They get to Makoto’s apartment without much trouble, except for the trouble that Makoto creates himself. He relinquishes Rin’s bags at last to head into the kitchen.

 

“Sorry for the mess,” he calls. “Do you want a drink? I have- okay, well, that’s not healthy, but I have ten of them,” he muses. He’s hardly cracked the door, comically bent over the fridge so Rin can’t see in, and Rin is more than fine with not looking. There is no shame in being scared of of whatever was so badly cooked that even Makoto is embarrassed.

 

“Just make tea, it’s fine,” he calls back, leaning against the wall as he kicks off his shoes. Don’t track mud past the entryway, his mother’s voice chides from his memory, for the first time since landing in Japan again. For the first time in a while. It’s not the place he grew up, but there’s an odd freedom in being able to say “make tea” and have someone understand that yes, that’s a snack. Picking up his bags, he heads towards the main room, whose overburdened table looks like it is primarily composed of textbooks and a blanket. A small TV is propped on a low dresser against the wall; there are exactly three tiny cat stickers on one corner. He almost makes it to the bedroom, but Makoto bustles in front of him before he’s two steps past the entryway. 

 

“I’ll take your luggage, just leave it by the door,” he assures Rin, who is having none of his bullshit. 

 

“You carried it the entire way here! And I can manage taking it from one room to another,” he argues. Rin splays one hand toward the door opposite them. “Your bedroom is two steps away, come on.” 

 

Makoto opens his mouth and almost, almost argues, before coming to a compromise. “I’ll get some snacks ready, then!” he decides, heading back towards the kitchen with a small nod. For one glorious moment, it looked like he was going to argue the point, and it’s incomprehensible to Rin why that disappoints him. With a shrug, he settles for ignoring it, and crosses the tiny living area to throw his luggage in Makoto’s room.

 

He tries not to linger in Makoto’s bedroom too long, but he’s going to be staying here the rest of the week, it’s not weird to look around a little. And what Rin sees is– not much of anything. Makoto’s room back in Iwatobi was bubbling over with posters, bright blankets, that sea animal poster from fucking fifth grade that he never had the heart to switch out. But this was too clean. His desk is as empty as the walls, the bed, the floor, every bit of it carefully neutral, as clean as a showroom after closing. If he hadn’t seen the rest of the apartment, he’d think no one was living here at all, that the room was kept entirely to reassure people that Makoto had a home. 

 

The one thing that stands out is a calendar tacked to the wall by the door, with “rin!” scrawled over the upcoming week in Makoto’s rounded handwriting. He hurries out of the room a little unsettled, and comes back to a pot of tea whistling on the stove, and Makoto shuffling school papers in the main room into a pile as though it will make them disappear. 

 

“So! This is where i live,” he says, a little breathlessly, brushing his bangs to one side. “I hope it’s good enough for the week. And I’ve got some shrimp chips, and um, an apple- i don’t have a lot of fresh food but we can go shopping later this week?” 

 

“I already said it’s fine,” Rin mutters. “I wouldn’t have said I was staying here if it wasn’t.” 

 

Five minutes later they’re both curled up on Makoto’s floor with tea, Makoto crunching at his chips and Rin crunching at his apple. Rin leans over to fix Makoto’s bangs; one tuft of hair had been sticking up since they sat down and he could use an excuse to touch him. Wait. An excuse? He pauses with his hand on Makoto’s face, earning a (gorgeous, beautiful, perfect) look of confusion. This is his Mako. Rin doesn’t need an excuse, he has infinite dibs until Makoto revokes them himself, and he shoves one hand into Makoto’s hair, pulling him into a kiss. Makoto melts into it and his heart bubbles over with a syrupy feeling that he’s been missing for months.

 

“So? You ready for your exam?” Rin leans toward him, ready to hear about the term paper that has been kicking Makoto’s ass for the past three Skype calls. Only makoto is suddenly managing to eat chips quietly.

 

“Oh, you know, I meant to tell you about that, actually,” he says, which throws a stone into Rin’s stomach, because Makoto has always been good at hiding a surprising amount of himself for someone so open. 

 

“What?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

 

“I’m not going for sports medicine. Right now!” Rin’s face must have given away his shock, because Makoto quickly continues. 

 

“Okay, I know I was doing that originally, and I really did mean to tell you, but you know, lots of people go for business, right?” and he starts fiddling with his chip bag, looking at rin with a smile that he’s wrestled into cheeriness. 

 

“But you hate business,” Rin says disbelievingly. “You didn’t even like math class.”

 

“I know, but it’s– I mean sports medicine is kind of a hard field to get into…” Makoto’s waffling, he can feel it and Rin hates that he can hear what he’s not saying. It’s safe. Nice and unobtrusive, exactly what’s expected of him and exactly the opposite of everything he wanted.

 

◓ 

He wakes up with hair in his face. This is unusual enough to pull him out of semi-consciousness. But when Makoto breathes in he’s engulfed in coconut, which drops a dozen other memories into place. Rin’s visiting. He’d picked him up so they could spend the week together- well, no. He was just helping Rin get back from the airport. Rin has to visit Haru first, or it’s not a proper visit back home, and Sousuke of course, and Nagisa, and at one point in the chaos that Nagisa will inevitably cause Rin probably wants to see his family, too, and Rei and and, and. It’s not just Makoto’s visit.

Only right now, early morning with his face in the back of Rin’s neck, it  _ is _ his, for at least a few more hours. He reaches across the bed to curl around Rin, ready to accidentally-on-purpose wheedle his way into a little extra snuggle time, and– that’s not right. He frowns fuzzily. Rin must have squirmed his way higher on the bed than usual. Makoto can barely reach his shoulders, and he’s not hitting his elbow on the wall the way he usually does when they cuddle. But when he moves further up the bed, that doesn’t feel right either. Even with his insane training schedule, Rin was  _ not _ that muscular when he picked him up yesterday. He pats over Rin’s neck, which is just as incongruous as the rest of him– Makoto hand doesn’t fit into the curve of his neck the way it should. Rin is built entirely wrong. And Makoto’s hair won’t quite get out of his eyes– his bangs seem much too long. 

 

No. They’re not too long. 

 

They’re actually a bit shorter than usual, because Rin just got a haircut. Makoto feels suddenly, horribly cold, hideously aware as he pushes himself onto his elbows that he is looking at his own face, smushed into his pillow and very much  _ not on him _ .

Makoto hadn’t known Rin was capable of such a high-pitched scream.

Neither had Rin.

“Holy FUCK, Makoto what the hell!” he roars, catapulting into a weird half-crouch on top of the bed and clutching his pillow in front of him like a weapon. Makoto doesn’t stop screaming, really, but transitions into a screeching noise that leaves him gasping for air. 

 

“Who- you, I’m- oh gosh, who- are you? Why- what, what,” he wheezes, clutching his too-long hair to his scalp just to have something to grab. His voice sounds off. Is he getting light-headed? Makoto can feel himself panicking, tries to force his heartbeat slower. The Makoto on the bed might be Rin, or something, someone else, and he can’t hyperventilate his way through whatever they might do next. 

 

Possibly-Rin is still standing on the bed, shoulders hunched over and eyes wide. “I’ll fight you,” he half-yells, sounding more aggressive than Makoto has ever heard himself. Definitely Rin, then. “I don’t care what you are, you can fucking– ” He pauses to grab at his throat. “Why am I so squeaky?” His face crumples when he gets a glimpse of his hands, his chest, his legs, and he raises his eyes back to Makoto looking somehow wilder. His voice sounds cracked open when he speaks. “What?”

 

Makoto manages to inhale enough to catch his breath, and relax enough to narrow his eyes at Rin. “You think I sound squeaky?” 

 

“Makoto?” The tension bleeds out of him and leaves a lot of awkwardness as Rin wavers before finally tossing the pillow to the side. 

 

Makoto looks up at him carefully. “You are Rin, right? Rin-rin?” 

 

“Of course I am, who are you? You’re Makoto?” he inquires. That’s not good; Rin is more scared than he looks if he didn’t object to the nickname, and Makoto is definitely more scared than Rin. 

 

Makoto nods, and they stare at each other for about two seconds before realizing what the problem is.

 

“Rin, I’m sorry but can you please get off the bed, it’s making everything way too weird.”

 

“Oh, sure,” Rin mumbles, and he clambers off the bed to face him, looking a bit confused before quickly sitting down. 

 

“So.”

 

“So.”

 

Makoto swallows. “Okay, well, this is new, but we just have to figure out what went wrong,” he starts, trying to keep his voice even. 

 

Rin lasts about as long as the end of his sentence before shooting off the bed. “How the hell are you so calm about this?” he protests, nosing into Makoto’s personal space. “From I can tell, ‘what went wrong’ is we switched places while we were asleep! That isn’t some math problem that we can work backwards from!”

 

“I’m just trying to think of something!” Makoto shrivels under Rin’s glare. “I don’t know what to do, or what caused this, or how long it lasts, or, or, oh my god,” he looks up with renewed horror as he realizes. “You have to go back to Australia. I can’t speak English, how are you going to pass your exams, what if you get kicked off the team for not knowing English? Ohh, I’m not calm at all!”

 

“Okay, okay,” Rin amends, poking at the frown starting to form between his brows. “I know you’re trying. Sorry. I guess you’re right, anyway. If we know what caused this, we can do the opposite of that, and that should switch things back properly.” He puts his hands on his hips and looks at the floor, thinking.

 

“Maybe, maybe it was something that happened when we were asleep?” Makoto offers, puffing out his cheeks. He crosses the room to his closet, wiggling into a shirt. At least he won’t be both terrified  _ and _ half-naked.

 

“We can’t really test that one, though,” Rin says, not arguing so much as contemplating. “We could fall asleep again, but since we don’t know what happened to start with, we can’t do anything different to repeat it.” 

 

“...You’re right.” Makoto pauses before turning back to Rin, and they both focus on his shirt, which Rin’s smaller shoulders make an admirable effort to fill. A look is exchanged. 

 

“Rin, can I borrow–”

 

“Just go ahead.” Rin shuffles past him toward Makoto’s closet.

 

“Do you have a hair tie, or a barrette or something? Your hair is really long.” Makoto brushes his bangs out of his eyes for the third time in three minutes. He can’t imagine how Rin puts up with this every day. 

 

“Oh, yeah, here– it’s not that long.” Rin looks at him disdainfully, but digs a hair tie out of his backpack. 

 

“That’s only because you’re used to it! It feels like I grew my hair out overnight.” Makoto struggles with the hair tie a moment, before copying the general idea of what he’s seen Rin do a thousand times. The resulting ponytail is functional, if not the neatest. Ten minutes later, they’re as well-dressed as they can probably manage. Rin has managed to locate every black piece of clothing in Makoto’s wardrobe and layered them all on top of each other, as though he can phase back into his body through fashion choice alone. Makoto, on the other hand, carefully excavated Rin’s luggage to find the least skinny jeans and is drowning in one of his own sweaters. The sweater might be a self-defense mechanism but he’s not going to think about that too hard.

 

He feels a bit pinned down when Rin looks him over. “Huh,” he comments, his expression too unfamiliar for Makoto to read. It doesn’t look right coming from his own face. 

 

“What? I won’t mess anything up while I’m in here, I promise.” Makoto fidgets in place.

 

“Don’t sell yourself short like that.” Rin adjusts his jacket, reaching over to poke Makoto’s forehead. “You should pick my outfit more often. I wouldn’t have ever worn that on my own, but it looks good.” 

 

Makoto turns himself round in place. “You think so?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, but hold on–” Rin leans over to fix the collar of Makoto’s sweater.  “–there.” Is it narcissistic or romantic to think Makoto looks cute right now? Oh well. He’s cute.

 

Maybe coffee will fix this.

 

◒

“One double vanilla frappuccino, extra whipped cream, and also a cookie, please,” Makoto chirps, flashing a smile at the barista. She blushes and Rin mentally slaps himself. He can’t conceivably get jealous over  _ himself _ . Only, he can; as they sit down at a booth near the windows he doesn’t miss the tiny hearts drawn around “Makoto.”

 

“What? I know you don’t like sugary drinks but it’s not that bad.” Makoto misinterprets his scowl, canting his head slightly as he poses for a picture with his drink. Rin is moderately shocked Makoto can manage to make sharp teeth look saccharine, but then again, it’s Makoto. “Even Haru loves this place! I’ll send him this so he can tell you too.” He hits send before either of them realizes what’s happened, and by then it’s too late. 

 

“I’m so sorry.” Makoto stares at him, red eyes wide in a perfect picture of shock. 

 

“Holy shit first of all, I’m offended that you just made my face do that,” Rin starts. “Secondly, I’m training for  _ the Olympics, _ I can’t eat like shit 24/7!” 

 

“I don’t eat like shit 24/7!” Makoto whines, looking up at Rin, which is– disconcerting. He doesn’t recall ever seeing himself from this angle. At least Makoto wasn’t lying about his haircut looking good.

 

“Yes you do. you always do,” Rin takes a sip of his coffee, black as his outfit. “Every time I visit it’s like you’ve never heard of carb counting.” 

 

Makoto levels a look at him, narrowing his eyes. “And you think I do this every day?” 

 

Rin blinks. “Yes? You don’t?” 

 

“No! Of course not Rin!” Makoto says, almost laughing, except for the way it misses his eyes. “I’d feel awful if I ate this much sugar all the time. It’s only when you visit. Just to– have something special, I guess,” he mumbles, smiling half to himself. 

 

Rin blinks at him, lowers his eyes to the whipped-cream confection in Makoto’s hands. The sprinkles on top are shaped like tiny stars. He hadn’t considered it. “Oh,” he says, quietly. “I didn’t know that.” 

 

“It’s just a silly thing I do, don’t worry,” Makoto offers. “You don’t see what I eat every day, after all. It’s not a big deal.” 

 

“I know that!” Rin protests, scooting his chair over to Makoto’s side of the table. “I know that it’s not a big deal. I just like hearing about you. I’m not going to make fun of you or something.”

 

Makoto tilts toward him, and he can feel the moment when he tries to rest his head on top of Rin’s because it doesn’t quite work and he gently thumps into his shoulder instead. He’s looking for something solid; Rin reaches over and squeezes his hand. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna fix this.”

 

◒

Three days of Rin’s vacation later, two more in Japan, and it’s not fixed. 

 

“Why isn’t this going away? I hate this!” he yells. A voice that sounds a lot like Sousuke reminds him that yelling won’t solve the problem, which fantastically doesn’t help him actually solve it.They’re in Makoto’s apartment, so it should feel safer, at least, but nothing is alive in here except Makoto. It’s like living in a house of a dying person, like the air itself has already given up. He feels like slamming something. Makoto cringes down, and Rin has an inkling that something’s gone wrong, but he’s pissed off, nothing fits, he has to go back to Australia, and what if this is permanent? Yelling won’t matter then, so he keeps yelling. “What? Are you scared of me?”

Makoto pauses, less than an instant, saying “yes” with the silence before he ekes out a “No.” It takes less than that for Rin to feel like shit.

“No, no no– hold on, okay? Let me– I’m not angry at you, I promise,” he grits out. He can feel tears starting. Makoto closes the distance, rubs his hands into Rin’s hair and lets his hands come to rest on the join between his neck and shoulders. 

 

“I know you’re not. Take a minute,” he says, softly, helping Rin ground himself not five seconds after he was yelling at him. Makoto wouldn’t have this problem, Rin thinks, hysterically reflecting on the fact that that technically, right now, he  _ is _ Makoto, so why is he having this problem, again? He’s still ready to snap at anything, running too hot to actually fix it, but he does the thing they’ve been working on, that Rin’s been working on, and counts his breathing until his heart slows to a walk. Makoto’s waiting for him at the end, steady as the ocean. 

 

Rin is the first to talk. “You can’t keep doing this.” What kind of a shitty boyfriend is he, to deserve Makoto?

 

“I’ll do it as much as I have to–” Makoto starts, his eyes flashing, but Rin cuts him off. 

 

“No, I mean it. You shouldn’t have to put up with my shit.” Rin sighs, lets it out and explains himself. “You shouldn’t have to do any of this, for me or your apartment or your exams or anything. Do what you like. If you do what other people want all the time, you’re never going to know who you are. I want...” He trails off before finding himself again, hugging Makoto’s too-small body close. “I want that person. Not a fake version of you.”

 

And Makoto pauses for a second, looking up at Rin with cherry-bright eyes before swiping at one eye. “It’s not me,” he laughs weakly. “You cry so much faster than I do.” He stands there for a second, his face quiet, before scraping his bangs back and pinning them into place with a barrette. When he looks up, Rin feels for an instant like he’s looking in a mirror; something in his eyes has changed. “I’m not sure I know how to be that person yet. But I’ll try, if you try too?”

 

“Of course.”

 

◓

When they wake up in the morning, Makoto stretches, hits the wall, and pauses. He blinks his eyes open into red, red, red, smells coconut, and feels back at home for the first time in a week.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [this](http://molteniridium.tumblr.com/post/165941523423/) post's tags, modified for a separate poem: "We are too much for the vessels of our being | only in the breaking of our limits do we come close to finding who we are"


End file.
